


Treason

by asthiathien



Category: 15th Century CE RPF
Genre: Battle of Bosworth Field, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Scoliosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asthiathien/pseuds/asthiathien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"But yet, if I may say the truth to his credit, though small in body and feeble of limb, he bore himself like a gallant knight and acted with distinction as his own champion until his last breath, shouting oftentimes that he was betrayed and crying 'Treason! Treason! Treason!' So, tasting what he had often served to others, he ended his life most miserably, and finally was buried in the choir of the Friars Minor at Leicester."</em>--John Rous, 15th century antiquarian</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treason

Richard swung desperately at Henry, his broken lance heading straight for the usurper’s back, but at the last moment one of his bodyguards lunged forward to take the blow, falling to the ground but leaving the Tudor unharmed. _No!_

Richard cursed viciously as he tried to bring his courser around for another charge, but within a moment the white stallion had become mired in the nearby marsh. He struggled with the reins, trying to bring the horse around as Henry’s men converged on him.

He _had_ to remain astride his stallion. If he was unhorsed, alone in this press of enemy soldiers, he would surely die.

His courser bucked briefly, before shoving them both forward as the stallion struggled free. Richard’s hope soared in his chest. Henry was _so close_ , surely he would never expect such a sudden attack.

Richard drew his sword as his stallion fought free, baring his teeth beneath his helmet in an unseen challenge. 

Without warning, a lance struck his back. Richard fell forward, slamming into the ground as he struggled to stand while forcing breath into his lungs.

As he reached his feet, helmet abandoned at his feet, he instantly recognized the arms emblazoned upon the chests of the soldiers surrounding him.

_Stanley’s men._

“Treason!” Richard screamed in both warning and defiance as he charged forward, swinging his sword in the vicious, lethal strokes he had become so known for. “Treason!”

A blade caught his jaw even as he felled the man who wielded it, turning to face a large soldier armed with a halberd.

Richard’s chest grew tight with pain as he fought, quickly becoming unable to see as the warrior with the halberd struck several glancing blows along his skull. Pain exploded through his head as some small dagger stabbed him through the top of the head from a mounted knight. Scarcely able to breathe and nearly blinded by agony, a single blow from the halberd struck Richard’s sword from his nerveless fingers.

Richard collapsed to his knees, head hanging forward as he fought for breath, trembling with pain and adrenaline as the warrior circled around to stand behind him.

As he pulled back for the killing blow, Richard slowly pulled free the dagger at his belt. Stanley stepped closer, armored fingers closing around Richard’s chin and forcing his head up. 

“Farewell, Richard.”

Richard’s hand suddenly closed around Stanley’s arm and levered himself up, the dagger burying itself hilt-deep in Stanley’s throat.

“Treason,” Richard whispered as he released Stanley’s arm and fell forward, hands pressed into the grass as he went limp. “Treason.”

The soldiers behind him brought their weapons down. Fire exploded behind Richard’s eyes, before all went black.


End file.
